


a glimpse of light (in a mine of gold)

by Acin_Grayson



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Camping, Families of Choice, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Just to put a general age range on these guys, Tim Drake-centric, Trans Tim Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29129904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acin_Grayson/pseuds/Acin_Grayson
Summary: Today is going to be a Good Day.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	a glimpse of light (in a mine of gold)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alaneii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaneii/gifts).



> For Lo, who I treasure. Happy birthday my friend.
> 
> Mood music: "Joy" by Sleeping At Last

Tim wakes not remembering his dreams.

He glances at his alarm clock, sees the time, and huffs through his nose. No wonder it’s still dark.

He flicks on his bedside lamp, sits up.

He breathes in, holds, breathes out through his nose. He lets the lingering anxiety flow out, just like Bruce taught him.

Today is going to be a Good Day.

His parents left for another trip yesterday, meaning Tim is free to come and go for the foreseeable future.

They’d stayed for longer than usual, nearly an entire month, which had left Tim jittery 

Tim pulls on a binder (this one shimmering gold fabric) and a shirt (NASA themed) and makes his way downstairs. Tim pulls on shoes and a spring coat then locks the front door behind him.

Bruce’s morning run will be starting soon. If he hurries, Tim can meet up with him just as the run finishes.

The last bits of nighttime still cling to the western sky, sunrise not quite starting. The colors are beginning to paint what few clouds linger, though, blotches of pink and purple in every hue. The air is crisp and the dew in the grass sparkles gently with pre-dawn light.

The walk is invigorating. Tim feels energy like he can't remember ever feeling before. 

He arrives at Wayne Manor’s gates much sooner than he expected, and ends up watching the dawn catch his breath in faint, misty clouds. 

Summer mornings are like magic, Tim decides.

It takes a few minutes, but Bruce eventually appears. His usual run slows to a jog, then a bouncy walk as he slows himself down to meet Tim by the fence.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” the man greets, smiling. “Good morning, Tim. It's good to see you.”

“Good morning, Bruce!”

“How are you feeling, kiddo?” Bruce asks as he types in the code to open the front gate.

Tim just grins brightly as an answer.

They walk together toward their home, talking about the little things that they’ve missed while Tim has been stuck in the Drake estate. Though relatively long, it feels short. They make their way up the front steps, through the door to greet the rambunctious dog, all the while continuing their talk. Apparently Ace has mastered a new trick, which Bruce demonstrates.

The kitchen is already filled with the warmth of the stovetop, delightful in comparison to the coolness outside. It’s also brimming with the scent of pancakes and vanilla.

“Hi Alfred!”

“Good morning, master Timothy. I take it you’re feeling chipper today?”

“Today’s going to be a good day,” Tim informs him. The man can't help but smile in the face of such positivity.

Alfred is telling them a story when Jason stumbles his way out of Tim’s periphery, looking like a zombie as he reaches for a chair. 

“Good morning, bud,” Bruce says

“Mmnn,” Jason responds 

“Morning, Jay!”

“Mmnn.”

The older boy yawns so wide that his jaw audibly cracks, before tipping forward to rest his forehead on the table.

The family was well aware that Jason was very much not a morning person. He’d wake up eventually. “As I was saying,” Alfred continued, “we were in a rather big predicament-”

It took about five minutes, but Jason’s head whips up and he locks gazes with his little brother. “Timmy! You’re back!”

Jason launches himself out of his chair, throwing his arms around Tim in a crushing hug.

“We need to celebrate!” He cries, lifting Tim and spinning rapidly. “A party!”

“I’m not sure a party is appropriate,” Bruce hedges, amused. “Maybe something more family oriented?”

Jason looks delighted at the suggestion. “Ooh, what if we make a giant pillowfort in the blue parlor again? Or, or, remember that time we went camping out by Broken Bow Lake?”

Tim blinked at them, curious. “What’s that like, camping?”

“You’ve never been camping?!” Jason exclaims. “That settles it, we’re going camping ”

Bruce decides that for Tim’s first experience it might be best if they stuck close to home, so they decide to camp out in the forest. The estate’s sprawling grounds are largely unused, with a decent chunk of forestry left untouched for nearly a hundred years. Jason knows of a clearing (not far from the infamous treehouse) that would be perfect 

They also call Dick, who eagerly agrees to meet up with them as soon as he can.

The camping supplies are packed away in storage totes, off in a side room on the first floor. There's a lot more than Tim was expecting, not helped by all the fishing gear mixed in.

“We’re not going to need most of this,” Bruce informs him, which is great because Tim was feeling a little overwhelmed.

Bruce helps Tim pick out a sleeping bag and a backpack (both red), packing that away along with a folded camping mat and pillow. Jason did the same, as well as a pair of large water bottles. (They have built-in filters!) Bruce seems to pack the most, carrying a truly massive bag that contains everything under the sun. This is without the collapsed tent he had in a separate shoulder bag. “It’s not supposed to rain,” he tells them, “but we should be prepared anyway.”

Ace gets  _ very _ excited when Bruce grabs the extended leash, happily wiggling even as he obediently sits.

Their camp site is beautiful; the grassy clearing amidst the trees is perfectly sized for them, their tent, and a place for a campfire at the center.

Sunscreen is applied almost immediately, with bug spray (terrible smell) following soon after.

While Jason takes Ace to gather sticks for kindling, Tim learns how to set up the tent. Bruce explains clearly, and even lets Tim try running a pole through the loops! Getting it to bend was nerve wracking, Tim was terrified it would break, no matter how many times Bruce said it wouldn’t.

Bruce then shows both of the boys how to properly make a simple fire pit. First clearing a circle of earth, then lining the outer rim with stones, and finally building a basic ‘tent’ of twigs and newspaper to get it started. It was really interesting! Tim couldn’t stop asking questions, so Bruce showed them the other methods of building starter fires as well. His favorite was probably the one where he got to line up all the twigs to make a tiny house.

After that, Dick arrives! He has his own bag, nearly as big as Bruce’s, that seems to be filled mostly with things Alfred would call ‘junk snacks’. Chips, hot dogs, and most excitingly,  _ marshmallows _ .

“That isn’t even technically  _ food _ ,” Bruce says, eyeing the Cheezy Bites that Dick is sharing with the boys. 

“It’s  _ delicious _ , and that’s all that matters.”

Tim is inclined to agree.

After snacking, Bruce takes them out to search for appropriate firewood, looking for dead or fallen trees to chop the branches off of.

It’s fun- Jason ends up challenging him to a collection contest, and then a tree climbing race. By the barest margin, Tim beats him. And, having beat  _ Robin _ in an athletic endeavor, Tim feels he has the right to gloat about it. 

“I maintain that  _ my  _ tree was unsuitable for climbing!”

“You picked your tree, I picked mine. Too late to complain!”

By the time they get back to the clearing, Bruce and Dick have rolled in some short logs and a larger stone to use as chairs. They light the fire and cook some of the hot dogs Dick brought for an early dinner. 

"While these cook," Dick says, propping his stick up on the rocks so he doesn't have to hold it, "how about a game?" 

"Ooh, what about Don't Get Me Started?" 

"Excellent choice, little wing."

"Is that the improv game where you have to rant about a random topic?" Tim asks, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

"Yes!"

"Bruce is absolutely  _ terrible _ at it," Jason declares, unashamedly mirthful. "It's like everything he's ever known just flies out of his head the second the timer starts." 

Jason turns out to be right, Bruce  _ is _ terrible at this game. With the topic of wildflowers, he lasts a total of one minute, two seconds.

Dicks manages to rant about kangaroos for three minutes and twenty seconds. Jason's rambling about cooking utensils goes on for an even seven minutes.

Tim wins. 

His topic is killer whales, and he spends nearly fifteen minutes passionately explaining things like pod structure and marking variations between the types of orca.

He blushes spectacularly, stammering to a stop when he realizes how much longer he went on than the others. 

Jason does not hesitate to tease him about his reddened cheeks, meanwhile Bruce looks contemplative. “You’re really interested in orcas, huh kiddo?”

“Um, yeah, since early last year I’ve been a little obsessed with them.”

“Your birthday is coming up soon...” 

“Yes?” Tim has a feeling he  _ knows _ where this is going, but there’s no way that Bruce would actually-

Dick lights up, turning to his father. “Ooh, B, are you suggesting-?” He makes a wild hand gesture, to which Bruce nods.

“Tim,” Bruce turns his attention back to the boy, who freezes in place. “How would you feel about a trip to go orca spotting?”

“You mean at SeaWorld or something?”

“I was thinking more, in the wild.”

“You’re serious?”

"Absolutely."

"Then I think I might actually  _ die of happiness. _ "

With a little encouragement from Jason, Tim tells them more about the animals which have utterly fascinated him. By the time he runs out of steam, and his family runs out of questions, the sun is beginning to set.

“I think,” Jason declares, “that it’s high time we introduce you to the absolute best part of camping.”

“Oh my god,  _ yes _ ,” Dick hisses, dragging his backpack over and beginning to dig through it. 

Tim looks to Bruce for guidance, but the man has his face buried in his hands.

Dick pulls out an odd metal contraption. It has two long handles which split apart to open the far end, which is square.

“This,” the young man brandishes it proudly, “is a pudgy pie maker.”

“Pudgy pie?”

“You poor, poor,  _ sheltered  _ soul,” Jay slings his arm over Tim’s shoulder, patting him strongly on the back. “Pudgy pies are the secret royalty of camping food.”

“It’s like a grilled sandwich maker but, like,  _ better _ .”

“We use it to make desserts, mostly.” Jason’s tone is hushed, like he’s sharing a secret.

“You take two slices of bread,” Dick demonstrates, opening the ‘pie’ maker to reveal that the square parts are dished just deep enough for a slice of bread to go in. Dick pulls out a bag of marshmallows from his backpack, along with chocolate bars and a jar of peanut butter. “Then you fill it with whatever you want!”

“Dick’s favorite is peanut butter s’mores. Mine is a mix of cherry pie filling and blueberries.” Jason smirks, jabbing a thumb in Bruce’s direction. “Bruce  _ cannot resist _ one made with Ma Kent’s apple pie mix.” 

"I just so happen to have brought a jar," Dick sing-songs, producing said jar from his bag and waving it enticingly.

The man's lips press into a thin line, his eyes narrowed and accusing.

For a long moment, the clearing is silent but for the crackle of the fire.

Bruce reaches out and takes the jar.

The boys cheer, Jason pumping his fist in victory, and then the topic turns to whsg Tim's first pudgy pie should be.

Each suggest their own favorites, of course, but Tim decides on peanut butter with banana. He carefully cuts the fruit so the slices are perfectly even, his tongue poking out with the depth of his concentration. 

While they eat Dick tells a campfire tale, about Titans Tower being haunted. It turned out to be Raven astral projecting, in the end, but they'd been terrified at the time.

"I think it's time for bed," Bruce tells them, cutting the lingering quiet after the story.

Dick yawns widely, stretching. "Agreed." 

Tim and Jason aren't quite tired yet. They stay up whispering to each other about constellations for a while before lapsing into companionable silence.

"Today was one of the best days of my life," Tim tells Jason quietly, after a long time just taking in the sounds of crickets and distant frogs. "Spending it with you guys, just enjoying ourselves, it was amazing."

He sneaks a glance at the older boy, who is looking up at the dark sky. His arms are thrown back behind his head, posture careless in contrast to the serious expression on his face.

"We'll have more days like this," Jason promises, solemn.

"I hope so."

Cocooned in the sleeping bag, surrounded by the people he loves, Tim feels safe.

He falls asleep looking up at the countless summer stars.


End file.
